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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22793791">Where the Light Dares to Touch</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntoTheRiverStyx/pseuds/IntoTheRiverStyx'>IntoTheRiverStyx</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Stories We Tell [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Arthurian Mythology</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, help is on the way, the healing process</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 18:01:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,494</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22793791</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntoTheRiverStyx/pseuds/IntoTheRiverStyx</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Who uses baths as a metaphor for vulnerability? This author uses baths as a metaphor for vulnerability. Mordred struggles with the circumstances of his birth. Galahad tries to help. Neither of them are good about talking these things over. Bedivere and Kai start to feel their age.</p><p>Rated for discussion of rape.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bedivere/Kay (Arthurian), Galahad/Mordred (Arthurian)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Stories We Tell [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1608088</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Where the Light Dares to Touch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had been, by Galahad’s estimate, near an entire moon cycle since he had last slept indoors or had a meal cooked in a proper kitchen.</p><p>It was Kai’s turn to pay for the rooms. Galahad looked between Mordred and Bedivere who seemed equally worried they should have offered to pay this time. Kai was known for many things, and his ability to go without was one of them.</p><p>“Two rooms for seven nights,” Kai told the barkeep, “and four hot baths, as soon as you're able.”</p><p>“The baths are extra,” the barkeep's voice was just shy of a growl.</p><p>Kai put down what he knew to be many more coins than would be required once all had been bartered for. The barkeep's eyebrows shot up. Mordred made a small, choked-off sound of surprise.</p><p>“Keep the stack and ask no questions,” Kai hissed, “And so help me. Hot. Baths.”</p><p>“Understood,” the barkeep swept the coins into his hands. Kai tapped his fingers on the counter while the barkeep rummaged around in his pockets.</p><p>Two well-worn keys were placed on the counter. Kai took them and handed one off to Galahad.</p><p>“The one the boy has unlocks the room on the right side of the first floor, all the way down the hall,” the barkeep told them, “Yours unlocks the first room on the second floor.”</p><p>Kai nodded and started the trek up the stairs with Bedivere close behind.</p><p>Galahad blinked a few times and opted to follow Kai rather than stick around to find out if the barkeep was curious about the amount of coin he had on him as well.</p><p>Mordred sat down at the bar and found a pitcher of ale in front of him before he could ask for anything.</p><p>“Take it and go with your friends,” the barkeep growled. Mordred shrugged and, for once, did as he was told without asking any additional questions.</p><p>–</p><p>“He was friendly,” Bedivere noted.</p><p>“We look like we murdered someone and buried their body in the bog after selling all their worldly possessions,” Kai sighed, “Which, can’t say I’m a fan of either part of that.”</p><p>Kai did not take his shoes off before laying face-down on the temporary bed. Bedivere, on the other hand, took the time to shed his shoes and riding leathers before sitting on the ends of the bed nearest Kai.</p><p>“Did you want yours off as well?” Bedivere carded his fingers through Kai's sweat-damp hair.</p><p>“Don't move my leg,” Kai muttered, “until it's time to go soak it in the hot baths.”</p><p>Bedivere hummed and pulled Kai's hair out of his face.</p><p>“I know, I know,” Kai huffed, “I need to say something before it becomes a problem. But we just spent weeks lost and most of that in the boglands. What was I supposed to do? Spend a few days resting in the late-spring mud and hope nothing manages to burrow into my skin?”</p><p>“Kai,” Bedivere said gently.</p><p>“Yes, it's rare for something to actually burrow, but it's also rare to receive the same injury to the same leg from the same type of weapon damn near thirty years apart,” Kai continued on, “My point is, we came to this town that's so large it's damned near a city and I fear if I don't genuinely rest I'm going to become a liability.”</p><p>“Kai,” Bedivere repeated.</p><p>“What?” Kai snapped and then flinched.</p><p>“There's always going to be mud unless the ground is frozen,” Bedivere resumed running his fingers through Kai's hair, “I'm glad you're resting now.”</p><p>“You weren't going to say any of those things, were you?” Kai tried to nip Bedivere's arm.</p><p>“Not unless you really, really wanted me to,” Bedivere assured him.</p><p>“I didn't,” Kai exhaled, “Still don't. Keep doing that.”</p><p>“I'm not used to your hair uncut,” Bedivere appraised, “but it suits you.”</p><p>“Old habit,” Kai felt himself stifle a yawn, “I hated getting it brushed and washed when I was a boy, and never bothered to find out if I liked it as an adult.”</p><p>“What changed?” Bedivere asked, “If you know, that is.”</p><p>“Turns out the fair folk don't have a concept of haircuts,” Kai chuckled, “and it turns out once it's long enough to tie back it's not nearly as frustrating.”</p><p>“It seems to be in style now,” Bedivere said idly.</p><p>“I've never cared much for style,” Kai sat up slowly.</p><p>“Somehow I don't doubt that,” Bedivere shook his head, “Duty has always been your main focus.”</p><p>Kai grunted as his leg moved, unable to ignore the pain now that the rest of his body had began to relax.</p><p>“Arthur was my main focus,” Kai said before he realized the words, “It's strange, now.”</p><p>“I'd imagine,” Bedivere stood to help Kai adjust himself.</p><p>“No, not like that,” Kai stood up quickly to stop Bedivere, thinking the other man had misunderstood. He yelped and went down to one knee.</p><p>“Damnit Kai!” Bedivere was next to him in a heartbeat's span.</p><p>“I didn't mean,” Kai hissed as he tried to pull himself back onto his feet.</p><p>“I mean I imagine in that I know,” Bedivere sighed, “but not in the same way that you do. I understand what it's like to spend your whole life with one focus only to have it taken from you.”</p><p>“Sorry,” Kai muttered.</p><p>“Me, too,” was all Bedivere said as he helped Kai to his feet.</p><p>–</p><p> </p><p>Galahad kept sticking the tips of his fingers in the bath water, waiting to see if it had cooled enough to stick the rest of his body in.</p><p>“Keep doing that and you'll lose sight of how hot hot is,” Mordred warned him.</p><p>“What did you do?” Galahad asked.</p><p>“Exactly what it sounds like,” Mordred shook his head, “A scalding bath is not nearly as pleasing as a hot bath.”</p><p>Galahad continued to stick his fingers in at fairly regular intervals. Mordred watched but didn't try to dissuade him further.</p><p>“What do you think we're going to do with a week in one place?” Mordred tried to start an actual conversation.</p><p>“Let Kai rest his leg,” Galahad didn't have to guess.</p><p>Mordred finally tested his water. He found it to his liking, so he shed his clothes and lowered himself in, careful not to splash.</p><p>“I feel like I'm the only one who doesn't notice things,” Mordred complained once he was settled, “Also, the water smells perfumed.”</p><p>“It probably is,” Galahad tested his water again, but still found it too hot, “And Kai is a hard one to read.”</p><p>“How did you know, then?” Mordred asked.</p><p>“He takes stairs on his heels instead of his toes when he's in pain,” Galahad explained, “And remember, I more or less grew up around him.”</p><p>“What was it like?” Mordred found himself asking.</p><p>“Kai was,” Galahad paused, trying to find words that were both accurate and kind, “without a doubt always the smartest person in the room, but also one of the most proud. To him, showing weakness or want of any kind was akin to having a death wish.”</p><p>“Sounds difficult,” Mordred decided.</p><p>“Sometimes,” Galahad tested his water again, “but other times he set a standard for behavior and grit that nearly everyone else used at their ideal.”</p><p>“I never really knew any of them,” Mordred leaned back to wet his hair, “Even my brothers were so much older than me that I do not think they ever stopped looking at me as a child. Soap's in the bottom, so careful not to sit on it.”</p><p>“I do not think anyone at the round table ever stopped looking at me as a child,” Galahad put his entire hand in the water this time, “There were drawbacks.”</p><p>“I would trade a hundred drawbacks of being raised at the round table to have that upbringing instead of the one I had,” Mordred snarled.</p><p>Galahad said nothing, unsure how to soothe Mordred's temper.</p><p>Mordred sulked as close to the waterline as he could manage without getting his face submerged.</p><p>Galahad sighed and climbed into his tub carefully, the joy of a fresh hot bath tainted by the fear it was his fault Mordred was angry.</p><p>–</p><p>Kai scrubbed every bit of grime, dirt, and debris off himself he could manage before he began massaging the worst of his leg's scar tissue. He bit back as much of the initial whimper as he could, the surge of pain far outweighing anything that felt good about it.</p><p>Bedivere nearly climbed out of his own bath on instinct, ready to fight or help, before he realized what was happening.</p><p>“Not going to lie,” Bedivere told Kai as he reclined again, “I am a little jealous.”</p><p>“Did you want me to do you next?” Kai offered. Bedivere made a small, choked-out sound and Kai added, “Either way.”</p><p>“I have never had the scar tissue worked out like that,” Bedivere didn't answer.</p><p>“I can be gentle,” Kai informed him.</p><p>“I don't doubt that,” Bedivere still didn't answer, “We'll see how we both feel once we climb back out.”</p><p>–</p><p>Mordred found the bath only helped cleanse his body. His spirit still felt heavy, and Galahad had been uncharacteristically silent since he had quipped about trading Galahad's childhood sorrows for his own a hundred times over.</p><p>He climbed out of the tub, water following him as he went. He set the cleanest set aside then dried himself off with one of his cleaner shirts before dumping all of his clothes in the bathwater.</p><p>“Good idea,” Galahad had his eyes closed.</p><p>“Is your still warm?” Mordred asked.</p><p>“Eh,” Galahad shrugged, “It's not freezing, which is better that we've had for a while.”</p><p>“I'm sorry,” Mordred tried for a direct apology.</p><p>“You're not the one who got us lost,” Galahad shrugged again.</p><p>Mordred sighed, a heavy thing that threatened to take on a life of its own, before he knelt next to his tub and began to scrub his clothes with the last of the soap. He would hang them to dry with some of the rope Kai had insisted they all carry at the bottom of their packs.</p><p>“I doubt this is what Kai had in mind when he made us all carry the rope,” Mordred said aloud.</p><p>“It probably was one of the many options,” Galahad opened his eye nearest Mordred only to find Mordred had his back to him, “Rope is one of those things you really can't go wrong with having on you.”</p><p>“And firestarters and cheesecloth,” Mordred had heart Kai's 'big three' items over and over, “Still can't say I understand the cheesecloth.”</p><p>“Straining water, packing herbs around the meat before putting it on a makeshift spit,” Galahad started listing uses, “wrapping delicate things like dried herbs so they don't get all over everything you own.”</p><p>“That last one is oddly specific,” Mordred stopped scrubbing for a moment, “Who found that one out the hard way?”</p><p>“Lamorak,” Galahad's words carried his grin, “He was so angry and only had himself to blame.”</p><p>“I think I saw Lamorak outside of the meeting chambers maybe five or six times,” Mordred resumed scrubbing, “Seemed nice enough.”</p><p>“Nice but not exactly a details man,” Galahad hoisted himself out of the tub, “Could follow orders and stay in formation, and could knock just about anyone on their ass in one-to-one combat, but the instant any sense had to be utilized he, well, struggled.”</p><p>Mordred stopped scrubbing completely and turned around to look at Galahad, jaw slack and eyes wide.</p><p>“What?” Galahad asked as he picked up his pack.</p><p>“That is the closest to mean I've ever heard you be,” Mordred explained.</p><p>“It's not mean if it's true,” Galahad sighed.</p><p>“Still,” Mordred tried to return to his task, “I've grown used to you softening the truth with some, well, a greater number of better qualities beforehand.”</p><p>“Two nice things to one criticism,” Galahad defended himself, “I'm sure he had other good qualities, but I didn't work or train or quest with him often enough to know them.”</p><p>Mordred hummed and plunged both his arms back in his tub.</p><p>“Dump your clothes in my tub as well,” Mordred suggested, “that way if we want to use the water again, one doesn't have whatever's in our clothes floating around.”</p><p>Galahad dumped his clothes in with a shrug, not bothering to dry off or set anything aside.</p><p>He knelt down so that he and Mordred were facing each other.</p><p>“Sometimes it feels like vanity to carry so many clothes,” Galahad admitted as he began scrubbing, “but right now I am actually a little upset I have nothing clean enough to wear into town.”</p><p>“It's a big enough town that they're bound to be used to people coming in unwashed,” Mordred pointed out.</p><p>“Unwashed, sure, but caked in mud like they've been in it for weeks?” Galahad countered, “I am selfishly thankful Kai and Bedivere took all the furs with them.”</p><p>“They're bold for being willing to clean them,” Mordred removed his first shirt from the water and slung it over the side of the basin.</p><p>“Kai is...highly selective,” Galahad picked his words carefully.</p><p>“See?” Mordred gestured to Galahad, “Nice.”</p><p>“Would you rather I say he would rather work to the point of death than let someone else try to do things to his standards?” Galahad rolled his eyes.</p><p>“I,” Mordred faltered.</p><p>“It was true at one point,” Galahad lifted his tunic out of the tub to look at one particular spot closer, “Things seem to be shifting.” He looked up at the ceiling pointedly.</p><p>Mordred followed Galahad's stare before he realized it wasn't a literal line of sight he was using.</p><p>–</p><p>“Spirits and gods beyond the veil,” Bedivere said as if it were one word as he clutched his arm to his chest. He nearly doubled over, lost in the sensations he was caught between cursing and praising.</p><p>“I barely touched you,” Kai frowned. He was sitting with his back to the wall and his legs out in front of him, trying to rest it as much as possible. Bedivere sat cross-legged next to him, bent so far forward the space between them had been reduced to almost nothing.</p><p>“Had I known there was going to be a white-hot pain I would have braced myself,” Bedivere sat back up, “I told you, I've never had the scar tissue worked on.”</p><p>“Hmn,” Kai tried to start again, this time with the faintest amount of pressure he could manage before the touch became a token thing rather than an actual attempt to help.</p><p>Bedivere hissed and his back muscles tightened, but he did not curse or move away this time.</p><p>Kai worked slowly, carefully, so much so that he had to keep himself hyper-focused on the task to avoid losing patience and rushing in a way that would hurt the other man.</p><p>Bedivere relaxed in increments so small they would have passed unnoticed had Kai not come to know him so well.</p><p>“I can't believe I waited thirty years for this,” Bedivere groaned once Kai had begun working in earnest, “Who knows what I could have done with more time.”</p><p>“We can find out now,” Kai said before he realized the presence of the 'we' over the 'you' he would have inserted not terribly long ago.</p><p>Bedivere ducked his head, not trusting his tongue or his heart.</p><p>Kai rolled his thumbs in a way that drew an involuntary full-body shiver out of Bedivere.</p><p>“What would you have done,” Kai asked, “with more time?”</p><p>“More time in my days already past,” Bedivere asked, “or more time, well,” he cleared his throat, “more time with Arthur as King?”</p><p>“Either way,” Kai said.</p><p>“More time in my days already past and I would have probably gone mad,” Bedivere admitted, “There was so much happening, constantly.”</p><p>“I would have learned how to rest well before now,” Kai rolled his thumbs again. Bedivere forced his shoulder to relax, not realizing it had tensed up, “Assuming, you know, I could take the knowledge I have now with me.”</p><p>“Do you think we could have changed things?” Bedivere asked, “If we could go back with the knowledge we have now?”</p><p>“No,” Kai shook his head, “Not if it was just the two of us.”</p><p>“All four of us?” Bedivere shifted to sit a little closer to Kai.</p><p>“Maybe,” Kai admitted, “All four of us seem to carry weights that we cannot put down. Could we, if we knew we had a chance to right things? I do not know.”</p><p>Bedivere paused to consider Kai's guess, frowning.</p><p>“I try not to get terribly caught up in the what ifs,” Kai paused in his efforts to work out Bedivere's scar tissue, “I fear one day they'll grab me and not let go again.”</p><p>“There are so many things I would change,” Bedivere admitted, “but if I start from the beginning, would the rest even be there to change? Or would I find myself in a whole new web of fucked up?”</p><p>Kai sighed as Bedivere put his head on his shoulder. Kai looped one arm around Bedivere, gripping the other man's waist.</p><p>“Idle time is dangerous for the soul,” Kai paraphrased things he had heard countless times before. </p><p>Bedivere chuckled and shifted to lie down next to Kai’s lap. Kai traced the lines of Bedivere’s throat absently.</p><p>–</p><p>Galahad slung the last hose over the rope and nodded. Mordred cracked the window just enough to allow for some airflow but to keep most curious creatures from coming in to investigate.</p><p>“Should be dry by morning,” Galahad looked over his work.</p><p>“I'll get supper tonight,” Mordred looked Galahad over.</p><p>“I may not have thought everything over,” Galahad shrugged, “Thank you.”</p><p>“Don't mention it,” Mordred told him.</p><p>“Can and will,” Galahad's voice was sing-song. Mordred froze, waiting to see if Galahad was giving him a hard time or his magics were working without him. “Why is it you shy away from thanks and such?” Galahad's voice was much closer to normal.</p><p>Mordred gestured to himself as if to say, Have you missed why we're on this journey in the first place? Have you met me?</p><p>Galahad rolled his eyes and walked to where Mordred seemed to be rooted to the floorboards. Mordred flinched when Galahad touched his shoulder.</p><p>Galahad withdrew his hand, but did not put it back down. “You did not know what an embrace was,” Galahad recalled, “I cannot imagine what you learned in its place.”</p><p>Mordred looked at the floor and started talking.</p><p>–</p><p>By the time I was old enough to have memories, I already knew what it was to be struck without reason or cause. By my parents, by servants, By my brothers, too, as they mimicked what they saw.</p><p>Lot – he was always angry about something, always raging against circumstance without doing anything to change it. It was strange, in retrospect, that a King should be so powerless, but that is neither here nor there.</p><p>My earliest memories were of ducking into alcoves and climbing out windows to avoid Lot and his fists. Not to say mother didn't have a temper – hers was expressed through words, not actions. Either way, to them I was a bastard, a stain on the family's reputation, a physical manifestation of mother's sorrows.</p><p>–</p><p>“Holy fuck,” Galahad breathed.</p><p>“Those are some of the kinder ones,” Mordred had closed his eyes tightly.</p><p>–</p><p>It wasn't until I was thirteen that I was allowed to train with the other boys who aspired to be soldiers – I was considered too frail, too afraid.</p><p>Something about holding a practice sword for the first time shifted something in me. I was, at last, going to learn how to fight. No one was going to hurt me again.</p><p>I was a poor study at first – my brothers long gone to Camelot and the other boys unwilling to help the last of the King's children.</p><p>–</p><p>“Seems like the opposite of what would be expected,” Galahad interrupted.</p><p>“Lot was not well-liked,” Mordred shrugged, “even by his own people.”</p><p>“Huh,” the sound escaped Galahad before he could stop it.</p><p>–</p><p>After nearly getting my arm broken for the second time during my first week of training, I realized my habit of hiding had carried itself over to training.</p><p>The next day, I wanted to see what would happen if I swung like I wasn't afraid of Lot.</p><p>I nearly killed the boy I was sparring against. It was not a series of blows, either. One, right to the temple, hard and fast such that he did not have the time to raise his shield.</p><p>The instructor knocked me on my ass, expecting me to take another swing. I was not – could not – swing again at his downed form. There was so much blood and I could not tell if he was breathing.</p><p>“In war,” the instructor said to the entire class as the boy was being carried off to the healers, “what Mordred did never happens. Swing low and try to get under their shield, not high.”</p><p>–</p><p>“That...doesn't sound like a man who had ever been to war,” Galahad scrunched up his face.</p><p>“Probably not,” Mordred replied, “Orkney was – and still is – rather removed, geographically. Lot was not well-liked but his people were armed by him almost exclusively. Whatever made Camelot – and Arthur – decide to accept the treaty is beyond me.”</p><p>“According to Kai and Bedivere, trade potential,” Galahad frowned, “I remember when you first came to Camelot.”</p><p>“I had been training for three years and thought myself ready to fight alongside my brothers,” Mordred shook his head, “I did not realize how much I had to learn until you beat me during our first match.”</p><p>Galahad chuckled. “You seemed like you were willing to kill me if that's what our match came to.”</p><p>“You thought it funny?” Mordred flinched.</p><p>“In hindsight,” Galahad clarified, “In the moment, I was mostly curious about what rage did in terms of fighting ability.”</p><p>“Not much, apparently,” Mordred took half a step back and crossed his arms, “You were the only one who could beat me in the training group, though.”</p><p>“Despite being half everyone's size,” Galahad's laugh was an empty thing, “I had to learn how to fight fast. I knew how small I was, how easy to overpower I would be if I didn't learn to use my size to my advantage.”</p><p>“You had learned well by the time we met,” Mordred dropped his shoulders, “You were light on your feet, even in armor. Still are.”</p><p>“It's been months since I've had armor on,” Galahad frowned, “But aye. I got taller but not much wider. Speed and dexterity were my main assets.”</p><p>“And intuition,” Mordred added, “Everyone else struck where their opponent was going to be. You saw them making calculations and stepped where their weapon wasn't going to be while still keeping them in range.”</p><p>“Aye,” Galahad nodded, “Lancelot had a sword made custom for me early on – longer and narrower so that I did not have to get so close. I kept the style once I, well, finished getting taller.”</p><p>“I favored the flail,” Mordred dropped his arms a little lower but kept them crossed, “but often swung it too hard and wound up striking the ground or worse – my own legs.”</p><p>Galahad sighed and stepped backwards until he bumped against the bed. He sat down with a huff. “I favored the politics.”</p><p>“You had a head for them,” Mordred complimented.</p><p>“It was exposure time,” Galahad deflected, “I spent nearly twenty years at the table.”</p><p>“Do you remember anything of your life before?” Mordred realized he had never asked, nor had Bedivere or Kai.</p><p>“Not really,” Galahad's frown morphed into a sad thing, “Bors thought my mother was starving me so that if I wasn't collected I'd be off her hands anyways, which was a part of why I'm so damned small.”</p><p>“Bors told you this?” Mordred blanched.</p><p>“When we,” Galahad stopped and then started again, “The last quest we took together, it turned to our families and what we knew of them.”</p><p>“Right,” Mordred let his arms drop to his side, “He and Kai retrieved you.”</p><p>Galahad nodded.</p><p>“I was,” Mordred paused, “I tried to block as much of that conversation as possible and regret it.”</p><p>“Did you want to hear it again?” Galahad asked.</p><p>Mordred nodded before he could second-guess himself.</p><p>–</p><p>“What, exactly, do you two want to know?” Kai asked around the fire. After weeks of pressing him for more details of how we came to be, he finally relented.</p><p>“As much as you know,” I was quick to say. Kai frowned and looked to you. You nodded. Bedivere poked the fire and decided it was the perfect time to fetch some more logs.</p><p>“Well Galahad,” Kai cleared his throat, “Bors and I picked you up when you were about four. Your mother had sent a message to Lancelot saying that if he did not come get you within six months, she would leave you in the woods to starve.”</p><p>“She what?” I heard myself say.</p><p>“From what I could get out of Lancelot,” Kai lowered his eyes, “what I thought was a fairly routine trip had some hidden violence he did not mention to those of us who were on the trip with him.”</p><p>“So, my mother raped my father,” I spat out the more plainly worded core of it, “and then years after the fact decided she didn't want me anymore.”</p><p>“I think it was an attempt to get Lancelot's attention,” Kai grimaced, “Bors and I went because I know how to keep a secret and Bors, well.”</p><p>“Bors could have scrapped with death himself and won,” you appraised.</p><p>“If he's still out there, I don't doubt he still could,” I agreed, “What happened, when you two arrived?”</p><p>“We were presented with the smallest four year old child I had ever seen,” Kai spoke plainly, “and several townsfolk tried to start a fight over handing you over, but all Bors had to do was growl and they backed off.</p><p>“You rode back with Bors – he was always good with children and had several of his own,” Kai finished.</p><p>“I remember the ride back,” I said, “in bits and pieces. I remember being given little pieces of fruit like they were never going to run out. I remember feeling safe.”</p><p>“You were probably never safer than on the trip back to Camelot,” Kai admitted, “Mordred, I fear I do not have quite as much information on the circumstances of your conception.”</p><p>“At some point I figured Lot was calling me a bastard for reasons other than he was cruel,” you shrugged.</p><p>“Arthur was a young King,” Kai sighed, “Barely more than a boy when we – he – decided to go to Orkney and see if the treaty being offered was worth it. It was myself, Arthur, Bedivere, and Lancelot using the fact that most people had no idea what Arthur looked like to our advantage.</p><p>“We traveled fast and light, as four people who learned to fight at court do,” Kai paused, “and it wasn't until we returned to Camelot he told us what happened.”</p><p>–</p><p>“In more direct format, please,” Mordred interrupted. Galahad sighed.</p><p>“Your mother coerced him into sex,” Galahad said, “Threatened to scream for help if he did not comply.”</p><p>Mordred's face paled. Galahad tried to offer a sympathetic smile, but it came across more as a grimace.</p><p>“I'd always heard he was proud of it,” Mordred could not get his voice to go about a whisper, “People are careless with their words when they do not know who is listening.”</p><p>“It makes sense,” Galahad said, “He was young, newly King, and presiding over a fragile land. Any weakness...”</p><p>“...and fragile becomes volatile,” Mordred finished, “Fuck.”</p><p>“I have no idea what's going through your head,” Galahad told him, “but you are not the circumstances of your conception.”</p><p>“What if I am,” Mordred crossed his arms again, “What if the violence of it, the nature of my parents' relationship, the violence of those who raised me – what if that is me?”</p><p>“We cannot help how we are born,” Galahad shook his head, “only how we handle things once we have any agency in matters.”</p><p>“You say that so calmly,” Mordred muttered.</p><p>“Because I know it to be true,” Galahad was on his feet and across the room before Mordred could blink. He caught Mordred's chin and turned the older Knight's face to meet his own, “because I pieced together the violence of my own beginnings long before I was told of them.”</p><p>There was a cold fire behind Galahad's crystal blue eyes Mordred found he could not turn away from.</p><p>“And yet, you've always managed to be calm about it,” Mordred found the wherewithal to speak, “You did not start a war because you wanted the truth.”</p><p>Galahad sighed and lowered his hand, leaving Mordred to turn away again if he was so inclined.</p><p>“I had my own bouts of hitting harder in the training ring after I found out,” Galahad admitted, “and my father went into the first of what would be several fits where he did not come out of his rooms for days.”</p><p>“Hardly a way for a champion to behave,” Mordred said before he realized he was speaking.</p><p>“There's an assumption there that Arthur left his side,” Galahad mirrored Mordred's crossed arms.</p><p>Mordred's eyes were still locked with Galahad's stare, trying to see what exactly the younger man was made of. Just behind the cold fire there was a rage that fueled it, unyielding to time and circumstance. Mordred felt a shiver pass through him, unbidden. Galahad did not flinch or shift. There was no youthfulness left in the younger Knight's face, the rage he kept at bay with quick smiles and even quicker subject changes there for the world to see.</p><p>Mordred realized, almost belatedly, that he was the only thing – the only person – in Galahad's immediate orbit.</p><p>“You trust me,” Mordred breathed, arms uncrossing as his eyes went wide. Of all the things he'd felt from another, trust had not been among them.</p><p>Galahad drew his arms even closer to himself, eyes cast down to the floor. The intensity was gone and a void lay in its wake, desperate to be filled with something other than silence.</p><p>“Do not abuse it,” Galahad warned.</p><p>“I,” Mordred tried to find something to say. He reached out as if to touch Galahad, but stopped just short of making contact, “I do not know what I have done to earn your trust, but I will do whatever it is I need to do in order to keep it.”</p><p>A small smile ghosted across Galahad's features, gone almost the moment it appeared. He did not drop his guard or look up.</p><p>“Trust is new to me,” Mordred tried to keep the void from enveloping them, “I have neither given or received it since I knew what it meant.”</p><p>“Trust is a sacred thing,” Galahad dropped his head to match his lowered gaze, “a thing not meant to be given, but rather earned.”</p><p>“Then I know even less of what I have done in that regard,” Mordred took a tentative step closer towards Galahad, “ but I still will not abuse it.”</p><p>Galahad raised his head to meet Mordred's eyes. They were honest things to be found there, still guarded and wounded from the life Mordred had lived, but not gone as Mordred seemed to believe.</p><p>He thought that perhaps the trust he had found attached to Mordred was something that would not have formed on the path they had led most of their lives. Still, there was something to be said of the path they were clawing out of the aftermath.</p><p>“You are not to blame for what your brothers did,” Galahad told Mordred.</p><p>“I hid,” Mordred shook his head, “My mother did not even get to confirm or deny the accusations before Lot killed her where she sat on her throne. Agrivane barely had time to react – nonetheless think – before he killed his father. Gawain and Gareth sided with Arthur. They did not hesitate.”</p><p>Mordred sighed and looked around the room as if the walls would give him an idea of how to handle the conversation.</p><p>“I have been a stain on everyone's legacy since I drew my first breath,” Mordred settled on saying, “My own included.”</p><p>Galahad took Mordred's hand gently, almost as if afraid of harming him. A soft squeeze that was far more reassuring than it had any right to be followed by a tug saw Mordred taking a half-step forward.</p><p>“There's still years in our lives,” Galahad's voice was set, “and you can always start something new now.”</p><p>Mordred swallowed a number of replies that ultimately aimed at discrediting himself while also minimizing anything Galahad to say. He landed on the safest gesture he could think of.</p><p>He nodded, a quick thing.</p><p>Maybe, he figured, Galahad wasn't wrong.</p>
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